


Sainsbury's Fishboy

by Budinca



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angry Cashier Rants, Codes & Ciphers, Grocery Shopping, Humanstuck, Illogical Shopping, M/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:44:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Budinca/pseuds/Budinca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eridan has been working at this grocery store for over seven months now and it did nothing but decrease his faith in humanity and its life choices. The life outside of work is just as <i>grand</i>. When somebody disses his immaculate cash register logic, he counterattacks.</p><p><i>His quest cointains</i>: bookshelf climbing, vague amounts of wizard references, critical views of a well-known BBC series, ciphered hate-letters, calamitous amounts of rainwater, noisy neighbours, a leaking pipe, a sinking couch and a box of passive-aggresive condoms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An attempt at paying homage to all the grocery stores I've gushed over. I'm sorry, Sainsbury's.

There was a woman in front of him and she held up coupons. She also held a bird’s nest on her head instead of hair, but that was irrelevant to the situation at hand. Eridan quirked up an eyebrow as one corner of his mouth turned into a grimace and took the coupons from her hands. Most of them were pointless as they barely cut off a few pennies from the bill and he would’ve gladly paid them himself instead of running through the whole ordeal of sorting them out. Who ate so many canned peas anyway?!

“Have a nice day,” he said in the monotonous voice of the one dreading unemployment. “You old hag,” he then grumbled to himself and went to the next client. Oh, great, this one had decided to buy a shitload of chocolate bars and spread them all around the place. “Do I look like a fuckin’ fisherman to you, havin’ to find all your shit in this pile?” Good thing the muzak was loud enough to cover his mumblings.

If only there was something he could do to zone out; he started making a mental shopping list for when he’ll get off from work that day. There wasn’t much left of his shift. He scanned a cereal box (awful choice, by the way) and added milk to the list. Soy milk? No, he needed the money to scan his assignment for college that week. Those people bought the lamest fishes he’d ever seen. Right, he had to get some yogurt too, maybe corn flakes. This tea was awful. He was running out of the coffee he didn’t even like. Had he paid the rent this month yet? 

“Can I use this too?” some woman shook him out of his reverie and showed him a shiny looking card and he shrugged, taking it.

The traffic at this hour would surely be a nightmare and he really didn’t want to go through that today; he should’ve brought his bike to work, but it was raining buckets in the morning. Eridan hoped his coat had dried down back in the changing room during the last few hours.

Oh, and he had to buy some cat food for Nep, because he was fucking considerate like that. Seriously, nobody cared enough to buy _him_ shit when he was caught in exam terror.

“Couldn’t this go any faster? I have a bloody bus to catch,” some idiot down the line piped up and Eridan spared him a single, withering, blue glance his way. It was lost, as the guy didn’t even look at him at that moment.

The clock on his screen showed 3:53 PM, however, so Eridan immediately prompted his hands to move slower as they scanned the products. The current customer didn’t catch on and left the store a happier man. The next one was too old to care, so Eridan slowed the process even more as the minutes went by and the complainer came closer. Finally, when the idiot had just finished putting his items on the band, Eridan chimed the bell and sat up without missing a beat. 

“Afternoon shift. Wait until the next clerk comes up or move to another cash register.” Then he swiftly cleared away, smirking to himself at the profanities sent his way.

“Did you piss the customers off again?” he heard what was presumably Sol’s lisp and he didn’t stop walking.

“They pissed themselves off,” he shrugged instead and ducked inside the STAFF ONLY rooms to change from the hideous uniform he was compelled to wear. Seriously, white overalls with a striped shirt? He wasn’t paid enough.

As he got outside, at first he thought the buildings were on fire; then he realised it was only the sun, up there, on the sky, where it hadn’t been for weeks. This also meant that the crowded atmosphere of the boulevard was now also thickened by the quietly steaming rainwater. Had he been a lizard, he would’ve rejoiced.

He wasn’t, though, so it only took a few minutes for his hair to start sticking to his forehead and for his neck to feel scorching under his scarf. At the same time, it was too cold to take his coat off, so Eridan was caught in a never-ending cycle of agony. He’d be damned if he was getting the subway; that thing was more expensive than gold. 

Something had possessed him that day to carry his camera around too, as if there was anything to do with it at times like these. Well, there was also Fef, who had requested it from him a few days before; actually, a week; no, two weeks. He was going to make a detour by the bookstore she was working part-time at and she’d better still need it.

Eridan hadn’t seen her in over a month either, but it was noteworthy how distant childhood friends could become over in time. It was almost sad how little they missed each other in order to become complacent in their current situation.

Luckily, she didn’t work too far from him so after only a couple more walked bus stops he slid into the shop, sighing at the air conditioner. Now he was still cold. Being a weekday, there was an infinitesimal amount of customers lurking around the shelves and Fef was silently clicking at her laptop, most likely finishing some forgotten assignment. If only he had that luxury at his workplace too.

After a small amount of time, Eridan chose wisely not to be a creep and approached the register. “Hi,” he put his hefty messenger bag on the first available surface (Anne Rice wouldn’t mind) and leant back on her desk. 

“Eridan!” she managed the quiet squeal of the librarian and grinned up at him as if to show off with her bubbly personality. “Wasn’t expecting you,” she smiled, but the wording made him think she was waiting for someone else; he had to get done with this quickly, then.

“Thought I might play the Good Samaritan once or twice in my life too,” he let out a practiced sigh and pulled his camera out of his bag and handed it to her. 

She still wore dozens of thin bracelets around her wrists and they tinkled softly as she moved her arms. On his part, he had began losing his rings years ago, but he still kept two or three inconspicuous ones on, if only to show that he wasn’t embarrassed of his younger self’s fashion stages. In truth, he knew nobody actually gave a shit or cared enough to remember, but that, too, was something he’d chosen to deem irrelevant.

“Oh, thank you.” 

She looked like she was thinking of what to say next, probably in the form of a question, which wasn’t reassuring (He was _fine_. College was _normal_. Life was _good_. _Yes_ , research papers sucked. _No_ , he hadn’t read that. _No_ , he still wasn’t going out with anyone. No, it hadn’t been _that_ long. _Yes_ , his friends were _fine too_.). Then, the skies opened and divine sympathy landed in front of him in the form of a customer. A rather dishevelled one at that, too.

“How are you, there?” Fef instantly started smiling at the heaven-sent guy as she scanned his books.

“Do you have a ladder for section J?” he asked after she was done and she and Eridan both looked around on principle. The shelves didn’t look high enough for the shop to need one, though.

Fef tapped her chin for a moment before placing the books on the counter beside a plastic bag. “Eridan, can you assist there just this once?” she had even put her shiny eyes in place, just in case he refused.

“I should be paid the minimum wage,” Eridan whinged as he pushed himself off the side of her desk and blinked at the other guy to lead the way. “I don’t think those shelves are _that_ high,” he added for good measure as he looked around. True, the saviour of a non-questiony afternoon was almost a head shorter than him, though Eridan wisely chose not to bring that up.

“See for yourself,” was the answer he received and the guy stopped in front of a shelf not different from all the others. “The blue one, four books to the left.”

“Easy.”

Eridan approached the bookshelf like a kindergarten teacher a new recruit, found the book with his eyes and raised his left arm towards it. Few people had been this surprised by something since the incident with the Trojan horse. His fingers barely brushed the wooden base of the topmost level. From a little behind him, Eridan swore he heard a small “Ha!” of victory, which may have made him grit his teeth for a moment or two.

“ _Fine_ ,” he pushed himself back from the shelf, careful to add more venom than necessary to the word. Looking around, there was, evidently, no ladder, but also no people to see what happened next. And this section was hidden from the register too, so it was as good a blind spot as any. “Give me a hand here,” he flayed one of his at the other guy, who got closer. “Don’t move else I’ll break my neck.”

Eridan then didn’t give him time enough to argue as he propped himself on his shoulder with one arm right before placing a foot on the second ledge and pushed. “What the everloving fuck are you doing, that’s called damage of private property, you – ow, shit, that _hurts_.”

In the spell of such lovely profanities, Eridan descended back to the ground, demanded book in hand and the satisfaction of a well-performed plan in his heart. He may have or may have not pressed his entire weight on the other’s shoulder as he descended. 

“Don’t tell Fef,” he warned before handing in the book, regretting only too late that he hadn’t thought to read the title. 

“Whatever. Thanks,” the short guy grumbled and went back to the register on his own, while Eridan dusted the footprint of the wood with his indigo trenchcoat. Nobody must ever know.  
He returned to Fef just as the guy left the store and, judging from her smiling face, she had no idea of the bookstore acrobatics. Still, it was better to leave soon, before she decided to ask for his help in other domains too and, most importantly, before she remembered to ask questions.

“Well, I’ll be goin’ now, before your boss asks me to work full-time,” he ducked behind her large desk to retrieve his bag, thankfully lighter without the fancy camera.

“Really? But we haven’t even talked yet. I was hoping we could catch up...” the girl pouted, dark blonde locks curling around her face. 

“I’ll come by next week. Today, I’m busy,” he lied with the easiness of an assassin and adjusted the bag on his shoulder. In a last moment of awareness, though, he took his glasses off for cleaning, letting his guard down long enough to feel bad. “How are you, Fef?”

If anything, she didn’t seem to understand the big favour he just did her, but she looked happy enough, not like that was something miraculous. “I’m good! I was talking with Ara last week and we were thinking of going abroad this summer. Just for a few days. I’d really like it if you came.” He smiled back, letting that answer remain unspoken. They both knew he wouldn’t come. “I’m gonna start my practice hours really soon and that would be a relief, less of this paperwork and oral presentations and all that glub. What about you?” 

Eridan smiled again. “I’m fine. Good luck with that an, ah, have fun,” he turned slowly to go and she didn’t stop him. He waved when he got to the door. 

“See you next week,” she indulged in his lie for a moment and waved back. 

From there, it took Eridan around an hour to get to one of the bridges that linked the two severed parts of the city and, once he’d crossed that, the grocery store and his apartment weren’t too far. He hadn’t forgotten the cat food either. 

Some would think that, after working for seven months in a supermarket, he wouldn’t want to set foot in one after hours if his life depended on it. They were right; he didn’t want to set foot in one, but he needed it or he’d be eating cabbage from the corner shop for the rest of his days. So Eridan bravely picked up an orange shopping basket and filled it with the material representation of his mental list, save for the corn flakes; they’d run out. Still, yogurt and pasta for the following week was an attractive enough offer. 

Eridan lived alone, thanks to the goodness of his relatives’ hearts, who had found him a two-room apartment as soon as he was ready for college and helped him with the rent for a few months. It was a small living space, but the facilities were working brilliantly and, so far, nobody had broken in. The only downside was the thinness of the walls. Eridan felt like he could very much do with a day of not hearing his neighbour masturbate first thing in the morning. 

Right now, it was quiet and he decided to leave the cat-food-delivery for later and enjoy the silence. The air inside the apartment could keep tropical fish alive for a few minutes, so he opened both windows, grimacing at the faint sounds of the road in the distance. Opening windows whenever he liked was one of the luxuries of living alone. Having to mop the floor after the rain got in was not. 

Undressing and changing into unreasonably comfortable clothes could only take so long and there weren’t any socks around, so Eridan started a second mental list and added 

• do laundry 

He had gotten the appropriate basket out and was halfway through sorting through his clothes (why were there so many striped shirts, he never wore anything like that) when another thought came to mind and he stopped. 

• borrow some bleedin’ detergent from Nep  
• actually, don’t, it’ll be rose-scented again 

Eventually, he found a last cup of powder in a drawer, so that crisis had been averted successfully. “I’m a wizard,” he whispered to himself as he watched the washing machine try to work. He gave it a mighty nudge and it worked perfectly. 

Then he did a number of acrobatics in the kitchen which ended in pasta waiting in still water and salt splayed all over the table. In the end, after a short exercise in sweeping, there was nothing to do but wait. Eridan glared at the black mass of his unopened computer as he mused that he should have gotten a book from Fef’s shop. He wondered what the shortie had bought. 

After not too long, he became aware of the shuffling next door and he groaned. He hadn’t realised the guy was back; it must’ve happened during his kitchen adventure. Knowing his doomed fate only too well, Eridan waited, and waited, and waited, and then there was something accompanying the sounds of the boiling pasta and of the laundry being washed. 

He took off his rings; he ran his hands through his dichromatic hair; he approached the wall; he drew a big breath; he struck. “Stop bleedin’ pumpin’ the sausage else I’ll caponize you in your sleep, you underachieving piece of trash!” 

He could swear the panting got louder. Fucking moronic tenants. With him on top. 

“Aaaahh,” he got out of his bedroom borderline screeching and it subtly took a different scale as he eyes the overleaping saucepan in the kitchen. “Fuckin’, flippin’, _fishin’_ wonker,” he manhandled the pot with a too-thin cloth and ended up flaying his arms around. “Bones and martyrs, screw this life,” he pushed the pan into the sink and started the water on freezing, panting as he flexed his burnt fingers. “Fuck it.” 

And so he sank into a chair and watched the water reach the brim and go over it like an enthusiastic kid faced with a bathtub. It was at times like these when he realised that he really missed being a neurotic piece of shit. He used to throw tantrums every week and they were never half-assed. Guess he just got tired. 

He was so tired right now. 

But there was pasta to be drained and freshly-washed, artificial-ocean-scented clothes to be hung above his bathtub, so he did that instead of sulking. Eridan was still an ace at sulking, but there hadn’t been anyone around to see him at it lately. 

As soon as he was done with the laundry, he caught his face in the bathroom mirror. “Ugh,” he grimaced at everything he saw and risked a glimpse at the nearby brush. “Nah,” was his verdict and his hands were in his hair in an instant, making an ever bigger mess of it than usual. Violet entangled in dark brown and it finally looked like a royal shit. He shouldn’t have dyed it again. 

The doorbell rang and now this was a challenge. Eridan was stuck staring in the mirror. Then, his gaze drifted south across his T-shirt and large sweatpants. Right, and no socks. He looked up again. To go or not to go, that was the question. And poor Yorick’s head was an over-used brush. 

Two chimes later, he was opening the door with one hand and flattening his hair with the other. “This better not be fashion police.” 

“Hiii.” Oh, no problem, it was just Nep. He relaxed quickly in front of her. “How are you? I’ve come for the...ah, right, that’s it...thank you.” 

“No problem,” he dusted his hands of imaginary bag-of-cat-food-dust. He wondered if she wanted to talk. 

“I’ll make it up to you! Um, I’d like to stay, but...y’know...biology,” she winced a pointed a thumb down the hall, where her apartment door was positioned. 

“It’s fine. Beat their asses.” He also wondered if she’d think there was something wrong because of his lack of intonation. 

Nep just laughed, grinning broadly at him afterwards. “I will. See you later.” 

Eridan closed the door wondering what the secret of saying you’re fine and having them doubt you was. Clearly, he’d forgotten it. Well, who needed people? He had an entire hug-worthy pillow all to himself back in his bedroom. In fact, he was going to get a hold of it right now. With a sinking couch and a soft pillow at hand, who needed comfort from others? 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never prode at a serious cashier with an unscanned stick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be mostly using Mr Caesar.  
> Hopefully it'll all correct.

It was already Thursday and no visits to Fef had been paid. Eridan was still “taking his time” if anyone asked him. Right now, he was in the tricky state of lying to himself that he would actually go through with it. Someday soon.

Morning classes had been a pleasure, as always, and at the moment he was halfway through his shift. Thursday afternoon meant there weren’t such avid shoppers around the store as he’d been taught to dread. If they were, he could still hope that they would go over to Sol’s register. He was the fast one, after all.

However, even in the emptiness of the moment, Eridan found himself drowning in sweet peas coupons. Such a nice lady, making apocalypse provisions on time. After all, waiting a few hours more until his shift was done could have made a life-and-death difference for her, couldn’t it? Sure it could. “Sure it could,” he repeated in a sigh and typed the new price in the register.

Another two customers came to his line before he was done stuffing the lady’s bag and he glanced around to see Sol’s situation. Obviously, he’d chosen that exact moment to take a smoking break. Arsehole.

“Have a _marvellous_ day, thank you,” he gave the bag back and turned to the next customer. “Hel _lo_ ,” he pressed on his accent and took a can of soup in his hand before looking up. This face seemed familiar...

Scan. Beep.

“Do you want a bag?” Eridan looked up over his glasses one more time before getting hold of a jar of grape jam. There was something about that clod of bright ginger hair... _Oh._

“No, thank you.” 

So now it was a game of who could pretend longer that they didn’t know each other, right? Eridan did the mental equivalent of a shrug and scanned two more caramel bars, the rest waiting farther away. Ugh, couldn’t people just _learn_.

“You’re really slow, you know that?” the guy in front of him asked and Eridan (1) congratulated himself on winning the game and (2) snapped his eyes back to him in order to wish him a slow death eaten by transcendental worms without uttering a word.

“ _Excuse me?_ ” He almost crushed the next item he scanned. “If you had any life skills, you would have known,” he gathered the remaining bars of caramel, one by one, “that,” one, “you’re,” two, “supposed,” three, “to put all the items of the same kind at once.” He shook a bottle of water. “And that you are also meant to order your products as you want to have them put in your bag.” He scanned the bottle too. “Not cans after cornflakes,” he grumbled to himself and hit total. The kids waiting after the current guy looked slightly concerned, as they ought to.

“Well, no, excuse _me_ for not doing for free the job you’re paid for, you turlingdrome. Please, give me more of your urban-survival guidance,” the guy spat back with a look on his face that made Eridan long for a stare contest.

“It’s logic, not rocket-science, you prick. 12.55, and I’ll be damned if I ever climb a bookshelf for you again.” Or, well, he may have lost the game. He hoped the other didn’t catch on.

The guy stuffed his backpack with the scanned items, and then turned and as well as threw a twenty Eridan’s way. “You chose to do that on your own, fucktard. You even fucked up my shoulder for three days.”

Why weren’t there enough coins when he needed them? Eridan really wanted to give the rest back in pennies. “Yeah, and fuck me for that, tryin’ to be nice and stuff.” Fine, he started gathering the money in banknotes. He shouldn’t have cursed. Dammit. “I don’t have enough cash, just...don’t move.” He glanced over the kids’ articles and then to their hands and he finished the other’s bill. “Stand aside.”

“Oh my fucking God...”

“Hello, do you need a bag for that?” They didn’t, because they knew what was best for them. They also scurried out of the store as soon as they’d paid and Eridan felt the thrill of being feared run up and down his bones; power. “Right, then,” he gritted his teeth at the other guy, who had been drumming his fingers on the register for a while now, and counted the money he needed to give him.

“Hurry up, if that’s an option?”

Eridan snatched the bill from his hand and double-checked. Then, before he gave it and the money back, since there were no customers left, he pulled a marker from his breast-pocket and scribbled a simple, conversational IXFN BRX on it. He wasn’t allowed to swear, after all. 

“Thank you for your patience,” he smiled with more venom than a king cobra on steroids and handed them to his lovely customer, who eyed the bill suspiciously before flipping him the bird and darting out of the store.

“I just lost half of that, haven’t I?” Sol grinned from the next register and Eridan scowled at him.

“That’s what you get for leavin’ me to do all the work, you fuckin’ asshole.” He might have got a cigarette break for himself (to choke on a borrowed one) were he not busy fuming.   
Everything he’d said made sense, if the fucker stopped to realise it. What was his deal, anyway, remembering faces like a nameless peasant in a medieval carriage-race? Eridan refused to see how that insult might have not only fit him.

“Stupid ginger. Did you get extra attitude points for every freckle or what. Go and lay with your kind on the carrot fields, don’t come here to mix caramel with soup cans. Who the fuck eats canned soup, anyway?!”

“Hey. Stop mumbling for a moment and look at the guy fighting with the bread shelves. Do you think he’ll come to you or me?” his colleague psst-ed, which was a ridiculous concept, taking into consideration his lisp and Eridan actually found himself looking up.

“I’m goin’ to choke him with Tic-Tac if he comes near me,” he decided.

“Sweet. Buy me a drink if you’re wrong?” He knew better than to go against Sol, though.

Watching the man finally retrieve a loaf of bread from its container, he shook his head. “I’ll buy you one if he comes to _you_.”

“Deal.”

Hard and mysterious are the ways of whatever, but, by the end of his shift, Eridan was buying Gatorade, yet again not really sure if he’d won or lost. 

 

It was Saturday and he was on his morning shift along with some unknown people when he saw that freckled face again. And soon after he’d spotted it (lazy shift, people didn’t usually come for frozen vegetables and such at 8.00 AM), the guy bee-lined for his register. All Eridan could think was _Sol’s gonna be so pissed for not working the mornings_.

Instead of an attempted punch, however, he found himself blinking as the guy started putting hygiene items up for scanning, in what looked suspiciously like size order, from detergent to hand soap. Then three cereal bars so closely-packed together that Eridan would’ve been surprised if they were still intact. The redhead seemed to think for a moment and then he made the swap and the bars swap places. Eridan was a little impressed, but then he was served a full dose of basilisk glare.

“Why aren’t you scanning?”

It sounded less acid than either of them had expected, judging from the harder frown that had installed on the other’s face, and Eridan snapped out of it and started doing his job. A little faster than usual, which meant at decent speed, probably.

“Do...you want...a...bag?” That indefinite article came out as a strong “ay”, ugh. He goggled expectantly at his customer/prick, holding the rather heavy bottle of detergent in his left hand.

“What do you think?” the other mumbled into his wallet. Eridan stared. “ _Yes_ , gimme a bloody bag.”

 _There you go_. “Sure thing.” He may have needed two bags in the end. “24.95,” Eridan said when he was done, still waiting for a punch line. He wondered whether writing on his bill again would be appropriate. What was this? He made himself sound like he sought company.

He got exact money this time, down to the last penny, which was disturbing because he didn’t know whether to feel grateful or insulted by the coin-army. The bill was still processing and Eridan sneaked a few glances at the other’s face, mentally forming a makeover list. Unacceptable.

Once he held the bill in his hand, he looked straight at him and stopped. To write or not to write. Writing something now would be embarrassing, after looking up and losing so much time. Fine. “Here you go, shortie,” he passed the bill forward and the other scowled.

Another moment passed and Eridan almost breathed out in relief because now both of them were in the awkward zone. Damn right. “Here,” the ginger snatched the thing from his backpack and threw it over the register at Eridan. “Asshole.”

Eridan looked down. Above his scanning thingie was a thing. The thing was a thorn piece of paper. First thought? He hadn’t got a love letter in years. Second? It was probably a hate letter. Last? Even if it was a hate letter, he would be just as flattered. The late, logical thought was: _Just damn look at it._

IRU VRPHRQH ZKR ORRNV OLNH KH MXVW JRW RXW RI EXUWRQ’V SDUDSKHUQDOLD BRX VXUH KDYH D PRXWK RQ BRX. HYHU WKRXJKW RI GRLQJ BRXU MRE EHWWHU LQVWHDG RI WUBLQJ WR PDNH SHRSOH WDON WR BRX OLNH D ORQHOB IXFNHU? WKRXJKW QRW. 

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me...” Eridan laughed silently at the piece of paper before getting a pen out of his pocket and starting to decode it.

He was less than halfway through by the time the next customer arrived, so he had to put it aside in order to scan a few kilos of apples and oranges. He would’ve killed for a grapefruit. Then he got back to his tiny piece of attention and kept on writing letters in between shoppers for the longest part of his shift.

The result looked pretty decent and, sadly, it didn’t have any misplacements of letters. Eridan wouldn’t have let the guy live it down if it had. Apparently, his brain had let itself believe this would not be the last they heard of each other. Interesting and horrifying, all at once. Eridan looked over the message.

FOR SOMEONE WHO LOOKS LIKE HE JUST GOT OUT OF BURTON’S PARAPHERNALIA YOU SURE HAVE A MOUTH ON YOU. EVER THOUGHT OF DOING YOUR JOB BETTER INSTEAD OF TRYING TO MAKE PEOPLE TALK TO YOU LIKE A LONELY FUCKER? THOUGHT NOT.

His face fell a few times, then rose right up in a sneer, and fell again. Fine, five points to shortie for knowing, at least vaguely, the cipher. One point for being a prick. Eridan reread the first part and frowned. Was he calling him some sort of puppet-monster? Weird skeleton? His eyes widened once he realised. A death wish for making fun of his hair. And who was he calling a lonely fucker? He was the one who started it all! Also the one who replied. Yeah, Eridan could totally see how that made _him_ the lonely guy.

Man, he’d give this guy quite a piece of his coded mind next time around. Maybe he ought to alternate ciphers just to fuck with him. Yeah, he totally deserved that, making fun of his hair and all. Then, Eridan stopped. The thought of not replying hadn’t even crossed his mind until now and that was so utterly embarrassing he smacked himself mentally. Ugh, fine. Company-seeking dickweeds, both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ixq idfw: wzhqwb-ilyh shufhqw ri Ndundw'v prwlydwlrq wr jr edfn zdv wkdw Hulgdq vhhphg reolylrxv wr shrsoh rjolqj klp.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The art of drawing crabs had never had a shinier age.

There were certain things a hard-working student with sleep debt oughtn’t see first thing in his morning off. Such things may have been: a roommate puking, a crow smashing his window, the house catching fire, indecent pictures of Hollywood celebrities, a dog-chewed sofa. Eridan hadn’t seen either of those; it was just that his bathroom ceiling was leaking. The benefits of living in a small apartment also contained the fact that you could see when your upstairs neighbour chose to take a bath even without getting up from bed. You just needed to leave the bathroom’s door open.

Like most days, Eridan felt homicidal and he approached this fact with the same tactic he used every time. He grabbed his larger, violet hugging pillow and draped it over his head in an attempt to stifle the world around at the same time with his groans. It was also before 10 AM, which was embarrassing for a Sunday morning, but it wasn’t like it mattered anymore. He could hear each drop of water hitting the floor in the next room.

With one heartfelt movement that lost its motivation halfway through, he threw the pillow and the blanket away from him, put his glasses on and threw his legs over the side of the bed. The floor was kind of cold but, then again, it was getting ready to rain outside so that was to be expected. He mopped the water from the bathroom with a dozen pissed-off swipes and then adjusted a bucket right under the dripping point. That ought to do it. He almost went through with his idea of flooding the people beneath him while taking his own bathtub-shower, but thought better of it.

The rain started while he was preparing some high-class scrambled eggs and turned into a storm by the time his toast was ready and, yet again, he forgot to keep the windows closed. Soon enough, he would need a better mop.

It was a shame that the first day he was decided to visit someone had turned out to be like this. Maybe he was a little relieved, maybe not. Still, it took him one more hour of heavy storm to decide that he wanted to call that someone anyway. Just to see if his need for company was bad enough to write a response to a nobody’s hate-letter, that was all.

The phone was picked up after three rings, which was the most decent amount of rings somebody should hear while calling. “This is a surprise.”

“Hello to you too, Kan,” Eridan rolled his eyes. Just when he wanted to entertain a proper, grown-up conversation.

“I assure you that my lack of a greeting has nothing to do with my pleasure to pick up your call,” she replied and he could hear her grin quite clearly. “Did something happen or do you just want us to engage in friendly banter?”

“Wow, Kan, you’re on a roll today, have you been readin’ Arthurian legends again? Listen, I just wanted to say that, seein’ how it’s rainin’ like the second Noah had just finished hoardin’ his boat, I won’t be able to come see you today.” He checked the closedness of the window again, just to be sure. Water was rolling down the glass like he was in a sunken castle. Dan the merman.

On her part, Kan seemed to grow even more amused. “Were you going to see me today?”

“Well, I was bleedin’ plannin’ to, as you just heard me sayin’,” he half-grumbled and fell down on his sinking sofa. “So we’re just goin’ to do this by phone.”

“Indeed. Give me a moment to lock the workroom, then.”

He frowned. “What for? It’s just your spare bedroom. Also, who would bother to steal a few metres of silk?”

“You’d be surprised,” she chuckled. “But this is merely a cat-proof habit. Right, I am, as of now, sitting quite leisurely in my living room, ready for pleasant chitchat. If you’d like, I’ll even add a cup of tea to the picture. How are you, Eridan?”

“Uh...fine?” he looked at the ceiling and scowled at a couple fissures in it. 

“Is that so?” Finally, someone who second-guessed his ‘fine’s. At least some people were decent friends.

“Barely. I haven’t gone to see Fef this week an this month’s essays bore me to death. Some idiot called in sick an I had to stuff shoppin’ bags for five consecutive hags a few days ago an some Sitzpinkel gave me a fuckin’ hate-letter on account of my hair an cashier-logic.” It was true what the poets said, that talking about things that made you angry caused you to be even more so.

Kan hummed and added a pause that could only be read as her tasting her tea. “You know my thoughts on your relation with your ex-best friend; they still remain that you two ought to talk about your separation issues once and for all.”

“But it’s _hard_...” There was an unwritten rule of three whines for conversation. He had two left.

“Exactly what I thought you’d say. Anyway, other than that, I fail to see how this week has been worse than the one when you broke the college’s projector.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me of that, I still have a scar on my left arm.” That had been a messy business, but it wasn’t his fault that the amphitheatre’s stairs were that steep. “The problem is, Kan, the problem is that I might have written half a response.” He hadn’t intended to mumble that part.

“A response to what?”

“The hate-letter, Kan!” There was a soft “oh” coming from her that showed him that she hadn’t thought that part was to be taken literally. “I don’t even know how I’d give it to him. If I ever decide to do that, I mean. Of course.”

“This is new.” He grunted in disapproval. “Are you, by any chance, expressing an interest?”

The couch did the most pitiful attempt at a squeak when Eridan straightened his back suddenly, a suitable look of horror spreading on his face. “No, I’m not, why would I be.” Too fast. Damn.

And Kan was just too patient for his liking. “Well, you did just confess to writing a response. When has this first exchange happened?”

He sank again, imagining that the folds of the teal couch were those of his own shame. “Yesterday?” he whispered.

“ _Ah_ ,” her grin was so visible he could’ve been Alice in Wonderland. “And you got home and...”

“...wrote the response,” he admitted to his sins. If anything, he’d waited until after lunch was prepared and an essay written to get to it. “But, look, it’s not as it sounds, it’s—”

“How does it sound?” 

“Huh?”

“How do you think it sounds? I distinctly recall you, so to say, calling bullshit on my imaginative powers early on our friendship. I am in need of further explanation.” She was never going to let him live that one down.

“Like, uh...” His hair was getting in his eyes by now and at the sight of violet he remembered the blasphemy again. Tim Burton’s works, his ass. “Like, you just said, like I’m interested. Ugh.” He was so not interested. Um. “Interested in what, anyway?” he let that thought get past his lips in a moment of forgetfulness and immediately regretted it.

“You tell me when you find out,” she replied calmly and this time he could hear her put her mug down. “Since this subject seems to make you uncomfortable at the moment, however, I’d suggest a change.”

Brilliant idea. “Good. Let’s talk about you an your girl crush.”

“Ugh, not again.” Bingo, he’d cracked her.

 

Monday night and Captor was looking strangely at him. The guy had arrived an hour after him and was still in his day-clothes (and Eridan couldn’t stop staring in horror at that mustard-coloured scarf), which made his dichromatic eyes stand out even more in the freaky-sort-of-way. “You look weird,” he said and Eridan scoffed beside himself. Look who’s talking.

“And you look like a reject at the _Jelly Beans_ factory. Get to work already, I’m waiting for the 9 PM dads looking for diapers.” Why the people around this part of the city chose to cluster in the supermarket at the same hours every day was still a mystery for him.

“I’ll be back,” said the guy just starting his shift. Really, a surprising turn of events right there.

After enjoying his Sunday in such a grand style (a few hours of chatting, some of catching up on assignments and a full hour of coding, checking and double-checking his letter), saying that Eridan was in grand spirits to work until 11 PM would have been the understatement of the century. Except not really. He had gone from homicidal to genocidal, but in the polite way. You know, the kind that offers you a glass of water while you’re choking on your own blood. Good thing Captor’s scarf was so captivatingly appalling, else he would have been the first victim.

The first fresh father came right before Sol came to his own cash register, fully clad in their shitty uniform, and, disappointingly, he didn’t have any diapers on his shopping list. Eridan prepared his bag carefully all the same. It was all part of the courteous killing spree.

“Got flooded yesterday,” Captor said after he was done.

“Oh, well.” If elevator music could talk, it would sound something like Eridan’s tone right about now.

“Yeah. Had to take all the dogs out. Then I realised it was even worse outside,” his colleague started scanning half a dozen rice bags for a middle-aged woman with pink lipstick. Never trust a woman over thirty who wears pink, Oscar Wilde had said, it means she has a secret.

“Eheheh...” Dying hedgehogs had sounded more amused than Eridan at that moment.

“So I took them all back inside and used my mom’s wedding dress to cover the window sill and her old house’s drapes to make some walking space on the floor. 20.13,” he looked up and was handed a credit card.

“Shucks,” Eridan didn’t even bother to shrug. The first diaper order had arrived; his spirits were sky-high. “Is it still raining outside?” Talking about the sky.

“When I came here it wasn’t. But it’s so damn cold my balls froze over when I walked over from the bus station.”

“ _Language_ ,” he singsang and scanned some baby food, wondering if there were real carrots in that thing. It looked so small.

“Yeah, well,” Sol shrugged for himself and started working on his own diaper-dad. It was quiet for a few minutes, save for the soft muzak playing in the background and for the register’s sounds. “What’s up with you, anyway?” It just had to be broken.

“There’s nothing up with me except for my hopes for the future,” Eridan barely contained a sigh and propped his head in his right hand. “Everything is _grand_.” That worked itself out of his throat in a vague grimace.

Captor shuddered too. “Awful word.”

There were quite a few clients in the store right now, Eridan appreciated. “I know, r— _shortie_!” That hadn’t been a shout; there are just some people who manage to mould their voices in such a way that you just have to add an exclamation point to their lines.

“What?” Obviously, Sol was having the moral adequacy to wonder why one was using exclamation points while whispering.

Just as well, Eridan had better things to do than answer him. Like check for his written answer and think for the 100th time whether he really wanted to give it to him. Whether that shit _deserved_ it. Still, the ginger fudge packer wasn’t heading to the register just yet.

It’s at times like these that details are being given. Eridan had spent not a very embarrassingly long amount of time working on his reply’s content. He had spent a decently long amount of time in it, if only because he didn’t want to make it too long. Long things meant somebody had spent time on them and he didn’t want the shit to know that. Well, he would know anyway, but at least it wouldn’t be obvious, just like the prick’s need for conversation hadn’t been less than subtle either.

He had used a whole paragraph to say why his insult was shitty, why his hair was not like Sweeney Todd’s and why he was a hypocritical asshat, taking into consideration his own radioactive bird’s nest. At least _his_ wasn’t natural.

After that, some more sentences had been donated to more imaginative insults and a beautifully drawn, orange crab at the bottom of the page.

GHDU IXGJH QRE,

It was one of the best pieces of writing he’d ever done and it couldn’t even compare to his college assignments.

ZLWK ORYH,  
IXFN BRX (crab)

He placed it securely somewhere under his counter, on an empty, white shelf and he greeted the next clients. These ones had their child with them, so Eridan moved like lightning, just hoping that the thing would not start crying. It didn’t; he was a winner.

“That was miraculously fast,” he was told as soon as the family got their bags of talc powder and sweet peas and went away. Shit, he hadn’t paid attention; was this kid some kind of ninja?

“Don’t expect the same,” Eridan frowned at the ginger in front of him, who then placed a single Coke bottle beside the register and looked at him with expectant grey eyes. _Fuck, how do I get to scan a bottle for thirty minutes_ , was the thought Eridan battled with as he twirled said bottle in his hands. “ _Fine_ ,” he groaned in the end, feeling Captor glance at him out of the corner of his weird eyes and scanned the bloody thing.

Giving the impression of an Asshole University graduate, the fuckwit pulled up his jacket’s sleeve and looked at his actual watch. “Well, fuck me, that looked like a record.”

“Fastest demon cashier of the old West, now get the hell out of my sight,” he snatched the bill, seethed at it, pulled his answer from his desk and handed both of them over to the inflatable maggot-pie before Captor could get his hands and eyes free to savour the scene. He didn’t expect the other guy to look so surprised at the existence of a reply paper, though.

“Right...” unidentified Weasley said in a low voice, still staring at the things in his hands. Then, he seemed to remember himself and the fact that he ought to get the fuck out, since he turned to go.

“I don’t work Tuesdays,” Eridan was petrified to hear himself call after his letter-bringer and almost slapped his hands over his mouth. 

That had to be the weirdest shit that had happened to him since he lost his 4th grade girlfriend in a water-slide at Aqua Park. Really weird. He felt kind of accomplished, though. Nice feeling of productivity settling down in his stomach, indeed.

Then Sol had to destroy it all by snickering. “Fuck you,” Eridan deflated and looked over at his next customer.

“ _Language_ ,” Captor imitated him and laughed again as he looked up the price codes for avocadoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DEAR FUDGE NOB,
> 
> [squigglesquigglesquiggle]
> 
> WITH LOVE,  
> FUCK YOU (crab)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unhealthy playground hang-outs and a lesson on representative ginger characters along history.

GHDU PLVWHU WRGG,  
L PXVW DSRORJLCH IRU PB LQDELOLWB WR PDNH PBVHOI XQGHUVWRRG LQ IURQW RI WKH PHQWDOOB GHILFLHQW. LW PXVW EH DOO WKDW GBH WKDW JRW VXFNHG XS LQ BRXU VNXOO. VWLOO, PB VLQFHUH DSRORJLHV.  
VLQFHUHOB,  
07-612-004-431  
S.V. BRX ORRN OLNH BRXU IDFH ZDV RQ ILUH DQG VRPHRQH WULHG WR SXW LW RXW ZLWK D IRUN.

Eridan kept the piece of paper (not torn, this time) at reading distance and let out a well-deserved sigh. He had just finished his afternoon shift, the register’s light was powered off as if to keep away other customers and his ginger piece of entertainment was looking at him. There was no fast way to read this now; besides, he had to go change out of his uniform.

He tried to say this much when he looked up, but the guy huffed like he was given the most consuming job in the world and rolled his eyes. “Just turn the page, will you?”

Good enough; Eridan turned the page and stood up from his chair, just so his co-workers could see that, yes, he was going in a moment.

DEAR MISTER TODD,  
I MUST APOLOGIZE FOR MY INABILITY TO MAKE MYSELF UNDERSTOOD IN FRONT OF THE MENTALLY DEFICIENT. IT MUST BE ALL THAT DYE THAT GOT SUCKED UP IN YOUR SKULL. STILL, MY SINCERE APOLOGIES.  
SINCERELY,  
07-612-004-431  
P.S. YOU LOOK LIKE YOUR FACE WAS ON FIRE AND SOMEONE TRIED TO PUT IT OUT WITH A FORK.

“Oh,” he said after reading it carefully. Wait. “I mean, go play hide-and-go-fuck-yourself outside and stop making fun of my hair, you failure of a pumpkin soufflé.” It didn’t have nearly as much bite in it as he would have wanted, but it was decently spiteful all the same. Eridan got out of his booth. “By that I mean wait for me outside, I’ve got to get these things off me.” Good thing Captor wasn’t working that day. The amount of tasteless jokes would’ve been off-records in no time.

The first thing Eridan did after entering the STAFF ONLY room was stuff the paper securely in his bag. Then, he got dressed in his street clothes. Then, he cursed himself for choosing striped pants exactly that day; the midget would undoubtedly devote an entire rant to them. Then, he fixed his hair. By that he meant that he put his hands in it and shook until every last bit of the thing that kept it together was dislodged. He looked traumatically dishevelled now. Good; he didn’t want to seem like he wanted to make an impression.

He made an effort of using the front-door while leaving, thus having to walk through the store. That reminded him he had to buy himself some biscuits soon. As soon as he got outside, the relatively-sunny weather didn’t make it too hard for him to spot his prey/assaulter. He was a human incarnation of the I-shouldn’t-be-here-I-should-go-home syntagm if he ever saw one. He was starting to morph into the I-don’t-want-to-know-what-I’m-about-to-do one himself.

“What the hell happened now?” St. Patrick’s bastard son raised an eyebrow at him as his eyes travelled up.

Eridan did his best to look unimpressed, but he had no idea what the current problem was. He waited for two moments, then the wind reminded him of the state of his hair. “Shut up.” 

“Shut yourself up,” the reply came promptly and Eridan tried to send blue daggers out of his eyes. Fortunately, the other guy was first to give in and give the ground a kick. “I want a burger.”

Eridan blinked and opened his mouth with the intention of forming another affront, but then he came to a realisation. “Yeah, me too,” he caught himself saying and the ginger shrugged.  
Well, he hadn’t expected to be walking down the boulevard of his broken dreams with this little shit today, but he was always open for change. That had been an overstatement. The mid-afternoon traffic throughout the avenue was horrendous, though. Still, the shortie seemed to have a harder time avoiding people than he did, so he didn’t comment on it. 

That meant they hadn’t talked for five blocks now. Fine, Eridan gave in. “So, uh, you got a name?” he watched the guy from the corner of his eye, which was uncomfortable thanks to his glasses, but there was no way he would turn his head. Okay, a small turn couldn’t hurt.

“What’s it to you?” the redhead’s frown seemed to deepen even more as another horde of people came their way from some aleatory bus station.

This time, Eridan ducked only a couple of them before getting a hold of the other’s sleeve to make his way unharmed through the crowd. Jeez, when had people become so pointy and forceful? Probably at the same time with the Inquisition. “Figured I should ask. But I’m not short on names, if you’re gonna be like that, Bilbo.” He thought better. “Samwise.”

Acting-Sam tore his sleeve away from him and glared as they fell back in step on the somewhat clearer street. “I don’t even know why you try.”

“I could call you Mortimer,” Eridan mused, raising a finger to his chin for the theatrical effect. “Richard,” he rolled the name around his mouth.

“Karkat.”

Man, that was a good whisper; but he heard it. “I preferred Mortimer,” Eridan decided out loud.

“Me too—”

“—who the fuck names their child _Karkat_?” Eridan grimaced at the world in front of him and almost threw his hands in the air. Just for kicks; he wasn’t one to judge. No, he was. He really was.

Karkat punched his arm before anything more was said. “Shut it, Sweeney, I could ask you the same fucking thing.”

“Not my fault my parents were fans of portmanteaux and thought their names would make a great one for me,” Eridan punched back, although feebly.

“That’s stupid,” the other voiced what he’d had said himself when it was explained to him.

“You got a better reason?” That hadn’t even been slightly hidden curiosity. Eridan was prying; when had that started being something that he did? He did not even want to know.

There seemed to be a good amount of time devoted to the decision of giving him an answer. Finally, the other shrugged to himself. “Dad working in India, rushed decision, fancy words, this is what you get.”

Eridan tugged him out of a hurrying man’s path. “Fair enough.” Were they going somewhere at all or had he forgotten? Right, Karkat ducked in the niche door of a squished burger-place. “Can I still call you Mortimer?” he asked absent-mindedly as he examined the menu on the wall and missed the narrow-eyed look sent his way.

A few hours later, they were in the whatever park on the other side of the river, dangling their feet over a tall, wooden playhouse in one of the playgrounds. It was sundown and the running water was only a couple hundred feet away and those two things equalled a ridiculously low temperature and even colder wind for both of them. 

Eridan caught his teeth clanking at times despite his best attempt to use his scarf as a shield. Karkat was using the feeble walls of the house as a shelter and trying too hard not to show it. They had currently exhausted the topic of mac and cheese (Eridan never thought of adding red pepper to it, he had learnt something new).

“What was that book you bought about?” he turned a little to make a short eye-contact and, in turn, the wind behind his glasses made his own eyes water. “The blue one I dislodged your shoulder for.”

The other snorted and hugged his jacket and plaid shirt around himself more tightly. “You didn’t dislodge anything, I was fine.” Well, there goes. “Some girl who tours Europe at the wish of her dead aunt or something,” he shrugged, although it was hard to tell with all that shivering going on. “Doesn’t sound like your type,” he challenged, lastly.

But it was too cold and late for Eridan to fight back, much as entertaining that was with the guy. “Yep, not my type,” he agreed, leaving the words there for the other to pick up. He was in an honesty mood, if only he got the right questions.

“...well, what’s your type, then?” Ah, there it was.

Pushing himself closer to a wall, Eridan thought back to his stack of books (birthday presents from Fef and Kan and mom and dad, who all apparently collaborated) hidden safely in his wardrobe at home. “Great shits with overpowered wizards and valiant, military-apt kings not like the dollop heads you see on the telly nowadays.”

Karkat was fixing him with doubtful grey eyes; then his face took a turn for the more shocked parts of it. “Did you just belittle _Merlin_?”

Eridan took no time to note this guy down as the only person not to call bullshit on his confession first thing after it happened. It prodded a stupid grin to spread on his face. “Why, yes, it’s rubbish.”

Acting-Mortimer’s jaw fell slightly, his eyebrows knotted in confusion. Come to think of it; for a ginger guy, he had some pretty visible eyebrows. They were very useful too; Eridan hadn’t talked to someone so expressive in a long time. Usually, the people he knew only downloaded three or four packs of expressions. This guy seemed to have over a dozen, along with expansion packs and premium memberships.

After a moment, his mouth closed again. “I don’t know whether to kill you or kiss you.”

 _Kissing would be nice_ , Eridan mused to himself, taking into consideration the freezing temperature and his verging-on-desperate need for warmth. The sweater he had underneath his trench wasn’t nearly thick enough. “Do you want my opinion on that?” he tried to respond with a grin, but the wind made his teeth hurt all over again. Yes, definitely hypothetical kissing.

“Anything but that. I’ll get back with an answer when I decide whether you were right or not. My skull’s full of Hannibal Lecter’s finest brain-freeze.” At his attempt to stand up, Karkat hit his head on the house’s ceiling, which, in Eridan’s opinion, ought to feed his ego; at least he wasn’t _that_ short. “Fuck, let’s get out of here.”

Eridan watched him use the red slide to get back to ground level. “You dork,” he let out an amused breath. _Usin’ a slide with a straight face_ , he shook his head and followed suit.

Over the hours they spent together, he’d had enough moments to think back on the fact that this was literally the first time they held a conversation. Reminding himself now that this morning they were little more than complete strangers was a weird concept. These things didn’t happen to him; he’d lived a long period in which he wished they did and learnt his lesson.

Eridan didn’t make friends or get close to people this easy. It was so weird; he wondered how Fef could stand it. At the bottom of the slide, he looked at his watch and made a face before glancing up at the other’s face, who spoke clearly: fire. warmth. now. “I think I’ll head home now.”

“Best idea you’ve had in your life, I’m sure,” Karkat had lost more than half his sourness to the cold and seemed resigned to that.

“Don’t be a dick, Mort, if you’re gonna die of hypothermia you’ll want to do so with an affable soul.” There ought to be a bus to take him back home from these parts, Eridan thought. Hopefully, he’ll get it right the first try.

Karkat groaned half-heartedly and lead their way out of the park and, in the absence of the riverbound wind, it wasn’t that bad anymore. “Do you eat a thesaurus along with your morning cereals or what,” he grumbled and took a turn to the right.

“Court secrets,” Eridan squinted and he could see the road through the trees. When they got to it, it was packed with automobiles, but there was no way either of them succumbed to walking home in that moment. Still, Eridan saw the other go the opposite way, so he called out. “I’m goin’ that way,” and he pointed at the crossroads behind him.

“Oh,” Karkat looked back and then half-shrugged.

“I’ll see you, then.”

“Yeah. See you.”

Then they parted, clean and simple. Apparently, Eridan still had it in him. That day, he went home content with the thought that the years of small-talk had done no damage to his social skills. The concept that small talk in abundance was a syndrome of communication issues was ridiculous to him. 

He couldn’t think too much about that because some kind of loud conglomeration of people was slaughtering itself in his apartment building. Eridan didn’t look at the calendar, however, until he was full clad in decently thick clothes and had a teapot full of water waiting on the cooker.

He was still rubbing his cold hands together when he realised that, oh, Nep must be done with her exams. Lucky thing that he’d been out till late (later than usual, at least), so he’d avoided being dragged to her apartment. She was cool and parties were nice and such, but he could never feel safe when her best friend-thing was around.

Soon enough, his water was boiling, so he got back to it, throwing camomile in ungodly doses in it. Late at night, he realised he had Karkat’s phone number on that day’s letter, so he splattered all his bag’s contents on the floor in order to find it. Nevertheless, he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hulgdq dfwxdoob hqmrbhg Phuolq, exw kh wklqnv wkdw dw ohdvw vrphergb vkrxog pdlqwdlq vwurqj rslqlrqv derxw lw, vlqfh shrsoh duh xvxdoob mxvw prghudwhob sohdvhg zlwk lw.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Letter Bees and Eridan gets back to the sacred art of coffee-making.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20-15 20-8-5 16-5-15-16-12-5 18-5-1-4-9-14-7 20-8-9-19: 9'13 21-19-9-14-7 20-8-5-13-25-19-20-5-18-25-15-6-7-18-1-22-9-20-25-6-1-12-12-19, 1-20 20-8-5 13-15-13-5-14-20, 20-15 4-15-21-2-12-5-3-8-5-3-11 20-8-9-14-7-19 1-14-4 19-21-3-8. 9-20'19 5-1-19-9-5-18. 9'13 12-1-26-25 23-9-20-8 20-8-5 3-15-4-9-14-7.

It appeared, however, that he was not going to get to use it, as two days later (on his morning shift, no else) he got another piece of paper along with the money for two boxes of cereals and two cartons of milk. A really cliché morning shopping, but even so.

Eridan frowned at the paper before looking up in the face of an olive-skinned guy, probably a little younger than he was. The other smiled with vague uneasiness and shrugged. “Bad morning,” he said as if in explanation.

Eridan took the papers given to him and raised an eyebrow at the familiar writing on one of them. “Really?”

“It’s a long story,” the other waved the topic off with a grimace that showed just how long it probably was. Eridan was already putting the money in their rightful place in the register as he waited for the bill to finish loading. “I’m Tav, by the way. Sorry, if this is awkward.”

He looked up again and, sure enough, this time the guy was smiling a little more comfortably. “Nah, it’s just early,” Eridan shook his head lightly and glanced at the processing bill. “Is he okay?” Then he remembered himself. “I’m Eridan.”

“Yeah, I could see that,” Tav grinned and pointed at the name card on his uniform; way to make somebody feel stupid, but it didn’t seem intentional. “He’s fine. He just, probably didn’t realise how early in the day morning usually is. “I tore that from him, though,” he pointed at the coded paper. Glob, was this guy talkative. “He kept mumbling about it while trying to assimilate the pillow.”

“Uh,” Eridan swirled that mental image around his head for a moment, the tore the bill and handed it in. “Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem,” he took the nicely-arranged bag (morning state of mind) off of the register and beamed at Eridan again with sincere brown eyes that then took a turn for confusion. “Why haven’t we met before?”

Eridan blinked stupidly back. 

“It’s just that, uh, I’ve been living with him for a couple of years now and, you know, you get to know people, even though you don’t, actually, hang out with them...”

Something in Eridan leapt at an unidentified part of that messed up sentence before he could reply. “We haven’t really known each other all that long.”

“Oh...” There was a dosage of confusion all over again before Tav shrugged. “I see. Uh, sorry if this had been really inappropriate, then. Thinking back on it, wow, it must have been. Um, yeah, er...sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Eridan tried to fix the conversation thing they had, but, yeah, he hadn’t really managed to do that before the guy waved and left the store. Uh, that had been weird. Still, at least he had some word from Karkat now; it meant he didn’t have to stare at his phone, thinking whether to call or text or shut up anymore. So far, he had mostly shut up.

20-8-1-20 16-1-18-11 8-1-4 2-5-5-14 20-8-5 23-15-18-19-20 6-9-14-7-5-18 19-20-21-2-2-9-14-7, 9-14-10-21-4-9-3-9-15-21-19 9-4-5-1 1-14-4 13-25 8-5-1-4 9-19 19-20-9-12-12 19-16-12-9-20-20-9-14-7.  
9 20-8-9-14-11 20-8-5 7-18-5-5-14-8-15-21-19-5 9-19 15-16-5-14. 15-18 1-14-25 15-20-8-5-18 16-1-18-11. 20-8-1-20’19 6-9-14-5 20-15-15.  
23-8-1-20-5-22-5-18.

Eridan was under the weirdest impression that he had been half-asked out by accident. The guy must have caught a really nasty cold after that day, if this letter was to be taken into consideration. Granny at the counter, Eridan scanned a dozen boxes of cake mix. He half-expected his phone to chime with the other’s dismissal of the letter, but then realised he didn’t have his phone number.

Because he was an asshole, Eridan waited until his shift ended to finally, finally text the guy.

_the greenhouses skanky theres all those squishy plants there_

He was waiting on his bike at a stop when his phone chimed, but he waited until he got to Kan’s place in order to look at it. He did so right after he secured his bike on the complex’s garden-rail.

_WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EXPECT._

Well, that was something. he didn’t know what he’d been expecting. Still, it made him laugh.

_wow no need to shout there ronald_

He pressed the necessary digits to demand access to the building and kept typing as he opened the door. Asshole as he was, he didn’t want to keep this going during his quality-friend-time. Gosh, he actually had something like this.

_anywwaayy well talk later ive kind of got somethin to do right now dont skip on your medicine or shit like that you know it fucks people up_

Kan was living on the 6th floor and, this time, the lift was working. He hadn’t actually told her he was visiting, but she ought to know from one or two of their last few days’ chats. Probably. It wasn’t like she had anything to set right before he came over; her place was usually looking just right.

_DON’T SAY IT LIKE I GIVE A SHIT. GO EAT A HUMAN PIE, SPOONHANDS._

Really, he didn’t know where all the love came from. Lastly, he ding-dang the door. Kan opened it with the resigned look of someone who’d had to put up with Eridan for a few years. She wore such a comfortable array of clothes he felt compelled to ask where she’d stolen them from. He was probably one of the three or four people alive to ever see her in sweatpants. Her bedhair was still on, too, come to think of it. There were cats on the balcony.

“Eridan,” she sighed and let him in.

“Kan,” he grinned at her the grin of somebody who had drank his two mugs of coffee that morning and seated himself on her red-silk-soaked couch. 

Most of her apartment was covered in diverse pieces of material, on that matter, but she somehow made it all look like part of its design. She flopped very ungracefully beside him and squinted at the sunny window on the opposite wall and at the cats behind it.

It was this that made Eridan act on his instinct. “Do you want me to make you coffee?”

Nobody had looked with that much relief at him since he’d found Fef a car to take her to Prom. “That would be wonderful.” Her fancy phrasing was ruined by a yawn. “Sorry. I’m overworked last night.”

“On your ball gowns?” he asked as he filled an electric mug with water in the open kitchen.

“On my,” she yawned again in her palm, “written assignment.”

“Yikes,” he shared a sympathetic wince with her and plugged the mug in an available socket. Waiting to see if she was going to say something else, it soon became clear than if he didn’t take the initiative, she was going to fall asleep before her coffee was ready. “I talked with that guy,” he finally admitted.

“Hmm...what guy?” To give her some credit, she did straighten up a bit before leaning on the couch’s armrest to look at him.

Eridan was currently fishing for coffee and sugar in her upper drawers. “You know, the one with the letters? I hung out with him two days ago after work.” There was the creamy shit to put in coffee, but no sign of the actual thing.

“You didn’t tell me this when we talked yesterday,” she sounded mildly surprised. There was the coffee and the water was boiling in the mug, so he shut it off.

“I was withholding the surprise,” Eridan grinned to himself and dropped two teaspoons of instant coffee in a cerulean mug. Then, one of sugar. Then, one of the creamy crap. Then, two of water.

She seemed to accept that, any other option sounding too complicated for the current morning hour. “So how did it go?”

Eridan stirred the coffee with the stubbornness of a royal chef or of a dying chicken. When he deemed it perfect, he poured the rest of the necessary water on top. “Unequivocally good, who would have thought? I had one of the worst burgers of my life, though...”

“You sound unusually kind. Thank you,” she received the mug with gratitude and looked up again as he mused that a third cup wouldn’t do him any harm. “Did you find out what he wanted?”

No, better not test faith; he returned to the couch. “What do you mean, what he wanted?”

Crossing her legs in front of her, Kan took a larger gulp out of her mug. “I was assuming that he had a goal in mind when he appeared to reach out to you.” Then she seemed to think about it for a few moments. “All the same, he might have just been curious.” The _like you_ of the sentence was left hanging in the air.

“It wasn’t like we talked about it,” Eridan huffed and leant down in the couch that didn’t sink as much as his own.

“Why not?” It sounded so honest that he found himself looking at her strangely.

“Because that would have been awkward. Besides, who cares...”

Before taking her next mouthful, she seemed to hum, but he ignored it. “Meeting again anytime soon?” this time, she only sounded conversational.

Eridan shrugged. “No fuckin’ clue.” The guy had to get better first, after all. Wow, look at the compassionate shit he’d become. “I guess I’ll tell you if that happens. How was your date?”  
It had been a bad decision to ask that, if her scowl was anything to judge by. “It wasn’t. We didn’t go.”

“Well, why the fuck not?” he turned to her, honestly done with the shits Kan had to put through during her whole crush-business.

In return, she shrugged and kept frowning. “She decided she wanted to try getting back to her ex.”

“When was this?”

She placed her empty mug on the well-camouflaged coffee table and picked at her XXXL T-shirt; it draped over her thighs too. “In the morning, yesterday. We were going to meet in the afternoon.”

“That bitch.”

“Whatever.” It seemed like she was completely resigned to it, at least for now. With one last sigh, he threw her bare feet on the floor and stood up. “Help me fix the train on the last dress.”

Naturally, he would have refused vehemently and whined until she let him go, but, for once, she seemed too down to deal with his dashing personality, so he followed her into the working room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THAT PARK HAD BEEN THE WORST FINGER STUBBING, INJUDICIOUS IDEA AND MY HEAD IS STILL SPLITTING.  
> I THINK THE GREENHOUSE IS OPEN. OR ANY OTHER PARK. THAT’S FINE TOO.  
> WHATEVER.
> 
> 1-12-19-15.
> 
> 20-8-5 17-21-9-18-11'19 3-15-13-9-14-7 21-16. 4-15-14'20 19-8-15-15-20.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eridan procrastinates Feng-Shui and Karkat makes a chivalrous move. Somewhat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you.  
> (PU. DWEDVK DZDLWV GRZQVWDLUV.)

It was his last Friday before exams and look at what he was doing: _visiting_. Later, he had to go shopping for provisions so he wouldn’t die while he managed to go bankrupt on sleep. No more sleep for Eridan, not for a long while.

Fef was dealing with some customers when he entered the bookshop and she looked more put together than last time, in terms of hairdo and other small things. It was the special dress that told Eridan that she had a date later that day. He’d been there when she’d bought it and she only used it on these occasions. It was good to know that she was doing alright on that level too; he was more relieved than he’d expected.

Eventually, like every time, Eridan decided to stop hanging in the doorway like there was a boggart in the room and advanced. She was just finishing the current, small line of shoppers. “Hi.”

Deep blue eyes glanced his way before doing a double take. “Thought I’d have to fish you up before you’d come here again,” she smiled warmly and handed the last customer her card back. Eridan took the opportunity to use Anne Rice as a bag-holder once again.

“I was the better one at fishin’,” he made a face at her.

“Are you shooore?” she grinned and twirled her chair towards him. “I recall somefin different. While I was catching my first fish, you were glubglubglub-ing in the water.” She even included wavy arm gestures.

“The boat was swingy,” Eridan defended himself briskly.

Fef drew herself up to her full height, looking solemn. “No boat’s too swingy for a real sailor!”

“Wow, Fef, you should audition for Captain Jack Sparrow’s stunt in the next movie,” he massaged one temple and leant himself back on her desk just like last time. “I see you’ve got yourself a date,” he inclined his head to her dress and she smiled and sat back down.

“Kind of! I don’t want to lose my touch, _unlike other people_ ,” she mock-glared but it only got her an innocent look from him. “Wish me luck.”

“I wish you luck,” Eridan grinned at her.

“Thanks!” she beamed. “Now, what are the chances that I’ll actually get something out of you too, this time?”

He was, yet again, saved by a customer, but he didn’t feel like he’d gladly text this one daily (he’d learnt early on never to trust somebody reading _The Canterbury Tales_ ). Not that he’d texted his new chat companion daily, of course. Eridan was fairly sure he’d missed Tuesday.

Still, this current distraction gave him enough time to think of possible questions and answers. In the end, maybe he wouldn’t tell her about his enhanced social skills. He wanted to make sure it was something durable first, not some person he talked for a couple of weeks and then forgot all about; no use making Fef enthusiastic for nothing. He also didn’t want to tell her because it wasn’t something he used to brag about.

No, he just didn’t want to share his thing with anyone yet. His thing. His. Personal.

“Eridan?” somebody called behind him and he turned, dumbfounded. “Wow, it’s, actually, you.” Tav grinned broadly at him and Eridan’s mind did an _aaaaaah_ of recognition. The sender of his last letter, in the flesh. One week later and Acting-Mortimer still failed to show up at his workplace (the texts helped, but, seriously, that guy was really stingy with the replies, geez).

“Hey, Tav,” he greeted back and caught a look of wonder from Fef at their exchange when he turned to face the other. “Er, this is Fef. Fef, Tav. He probably wants books, but I wouldn’t know,” he added in an even ramble.

The other two both chuckled before shaking hands over Fef’s register. “I wasn’t, really looking for something. I’m just accompanying,” and he looked over his shoulder as a freshly-submerged Karkat arose from under a larger bookshelf. Eridan punched his chest subtly through his scarf as soon as he caught it having a party. “Did you find it?”

“Found it,” Karkat grumbled in answer and hefted the two Necronomicon-scaled books up to Fef’s counter. Only after that did he look at Eridan. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Eridan replied with the smile of someone who’d had his last few days’ messages as good as ignored. “You’re feelin’ better.”

“Pfff, don’t patronize me,” the other huffed, although, at Eridan’s small grin, his lips quirked up a little too.

In turn, he was ready to keep talking, only Fef threw another curious look his way as she heaved the books into a larger bag. “And that’s Ygritte’s youngest son,” he pointed at the ginger and Fef worded an amused question mark.

“Your cognisance of TV series is horrifying,” Karkat had the theatrical instinct to face a shiver before fishing in his backpack for his wallet. “I’m K-... Mortimer.” Ah, that was a peace treaty. The other made a short eye-contact with Fef and that was all.

Eridan’s cheeks were hurting, but he only grinned more when Tav glanced in confusion at him. Fef didn’t seem to suspect too much (over her already conceived theories, he meant) while she presented herself too and placed the bagged books back on the counter.

“Are you living nearby?” Tav peeked up while the other two were handling money (expensive books, what the hell were those prices; he could buy a cat with those money).

It was Karkat’s cringe that pushed Eridan to answer. “No, we just happen to work close to each other.”

“Oh,” Tav nodded. “Yeah, that’s why I asked. Um, we live over there,” he pointed with his chin at one of the tall buildings across the street and Eridan twisted to follow his gaze, making mental notes for no reason at all. When he turned back, Karkat looked like his kiddie spy hideout had been uncovered.

“Aren’t those apartments reely expensive?” Fef chimed up as she cashed up the money, but her pun was lost on them. If it wasn’t, they didn’t make point of showing it. 

“Not really. I mean, some of them are, but we got ours really cheap,” Tav chatted her up with his usual jollity.

And, with Fef’s added friendliness, it turned into a pretty long conversation. Eridan was just starting to enjoy himself when Karkat seemed to decide he’d had enough. “I’m done,” he declared and took hold of his bag.

“Oh, right away,” Tav paused his explanation of indoor animals to answer him and missed the exasperated groan thrown his way.

It took the redhead one more moment until he decided it was a lost cause and walked around the desk. Eridan, always on cue, took a note out of his pocket and handed it to him right away, without making eye contact. Damn right he was proud of that smooth move. He was also thankful to the Indian Ocean and back for still having that thing with him by this time.

Karkat snatched it from between his fingers with another huff and stowed it securely deep inside his jeans’ pockets. “I rewatched _Merlin_ ,” he confessed after a while and this time Eridan had to look at him.

“And?” Part of him was still too excited about this whole deal, but it wasn’t like he could keep punching himself until it calmed down. In absence of this, he raised a suspicious eyebrow.  
The other seemed to recoil at the movement. “Put that down, it was as great as the first time.”

“Oh,” his soul did an affected representation of a balloon losing all his filling as it twirled in the air, only to lastly land in a puddle. “Shame.” Great, that had made him both want to make out and feel bad about it.

“Not my fault you have less taste than an avox fed fast-food his entire life.” Tav and Fef seemed to be mostly done (they were just exchanging phone numbers, dear god). Eridan risked a small knock at his companion’s side while they still weren’t looking. The other reciprocated by kicking his ankle. “So, is...are...I’m...Fuck, are you free tomorrow?”

No, he had to rearrange his furniture in the most Feng-Shui-approved way for his stress-weeks. That is to say, make as much space for throwing papers around as possible. “I don’t know.”

Acting-Mortimer seethed openly at him this time. “Well, are you or are you not, I’m not going to loiter around you just so you can polish your self-esteem with me.”

“Geez, touchy,” he whispered, feeling the slightest bit bad as soon as an edge to the other’s voice made it apparent that he was talking from experience. “I’m free. Where are we goin’?” he looked for Karkat’s eyes, but they were draped aimlessly around the shop.

“Heard they have decent food in St. John’s park,” the other shrugged. Eh, that one was pretty far from Eridan, but he was planning on putting thicker clothes on this time, in the eventuality that they would have to walk more than necessary yet again.

“Uh, sorry for that,” Tav smiled apologetically and that was Karkat’s call to push himself away from the wall he’d been leaning on.

“Is noon okay for you?” the ginger looked back at him and Eridan shrugged before waving to them both.

His insides were still a little too giddy. It stood to reason that they would, since this was the most socially active he’d been in years. Gosh, how long had it been since he’d agreed to a meeting time with somebody?

“You made friends,” Fef beamed at him, eyes crinkling and joy there for the whole world to see. Eridan felt himself smiling back.

“And you made friends out of that too, nothin’ new here,” he pointed at her phone and she swatted at his arm, still in good spirits.

Her pout was still the most amusing blowfish impersonation he’d ever seen. “Let me be happy for you! Oh, hey, did you know they know Vriss?”

“They do?” Eridan cringed; second-hand annoyance from his talks with Kan still present in his system. “How did you even find that out _in five minutes_?” Like it took one much longer to bring her into discussion, really.

“Ow, shush. But, yes, Tav said they had gone out a few times.” _Five minutes_. His achievements were starting to feel feeble in comparison with this. “We were talking about pet tarantulas, you see, and...”

Eridan waved his hands desperately in front of her. “No, no, this is goin’ to lead to hurt and heartbreak and I have my exams startin’ in three days, please don’t pour this on me now.”

For a moment, she puffed up her cheeks and narrowed her eyes, but then it clicked in and she deflated. “Oh, that’s right! What are you still doing here, shouldn’t you be preparing?”

“Wow, way to make a guy feel wanted, Fef,” he rolled his eyes, but picked up his bag nonetheless.

“You know what I mean,” she made a face and this time he grinned.

“Don’t burst your bubble over it, I’m going anyway. Gotta find the love somewhere else,” he walked backwards to the entrance door. “Good luck on your date.”

“Geez, if you must!” He opened the door, still grinning at her. “Thanks! Love you!”

“Me too,” he called out just before closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [WZGV WZGV WZGV WZGV WZGV WZGV WZGV WZGV WZGV WZGV]


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dATE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter.  
> Thank you for sticking with this so far :)

In a stunning turn of events, it was raining on Saturday. Eridan had spent 15 minutes looking for his little pumpkin-haired gnome around the park’s entrance, only to find him sulking under a lamp-post. It might have been heartbreaking if it wasn’t for all that cloudy light outside.

Before saying anything, he adjusted his umbrella to cover both of them. “So where are we goin’?” he asked when it became apparent that Karkat wasn’t going to get out of his sullen state without some help. “I’d say food, if you ask me.” There were enough places around and they seemed cosier than standing in the rain.

“Yeah, I’m fine with that,” the other finally relaxed his stance and they scurried to some idle bar nearby; it was moderately full, thanks to the weather. 

Really cosy. “What got you down in the mouth?” Eridan asked as he draped his trench over the back of his chair.

“Nothing new, everyone’s as keen as always to be the bane of my existence.” He used his hands to cover his face and massaged the skin a little before looking up at him. Eridan was just settling back in his chair. “Sorry, this isn’t something you should be subjected to in your free time.”

Before Eridan could say anything to that, some server with a body like a forest ranger high on steroids came to take their order. True to some unspoken ideal, they got the breakfast deal. With tea. And like three mugs of coffee each. Now they only had to wait for them to come.

“No, uh, you know what? Just lay it on me. I told Fef yesterday that I didn’t want to get my dose of drama before exams, but fuck it.” 

Actually, he didn’t know what he wanted to talk about at the moment (so many little questions and too much pride to actually ask them) without starting to wonder whether they were in that kind of friendship where it was okay to make out from time to time. This was the pre-assessment stress talking. It was much easier to just rest his head in one hand and listen.

“Ugh, can we just wait until the coffee arrives first?” Eridan shrugged in answer. “Thanks. Uh...” grey eyes looked into his with a dose of confusion. “When do your exams start?”

“The day after tomorrow.” He was going to spend this night arranging the living room, but at least he would be relatively high on coffee.

“Oh.” He could almost count the dotdotdots being passed around. “Oh, right! Shit,” Karkat turned to fetch his backpack from the back of his chair and dug around in it until he produced a blue-grey piece of paper. He passed it through. “You messed up the word superciliousness, by the way.”

“ _What_.” Now that he couldn’t take easily. He did accept the new paper before leaning in, though.

“You said H instead of K,” bloody Acting-Mortimer looked as smug as Death on holiday.

Eridan waved him off. “Impossible.”

“Not infeasible, though,” the other grinned more honestly this time.

It was hard not to let a smile sneak up on his face too. “Inconceivable.” It was quite unachievable.

Coffee came, the first round, along with their tea. They worked on not looking giddy while stirring their sugar. Karkat inhaled half his cup and sighed afterwards. “Right, drama. Do you want it from the start or...” Eridan shrugged. “Alright.”

So he explained half of Tav and Vriss’s on-off thing briefly until food came, with the necessary pause to draw an image of his last flatmate before Tav. Something about underwear being stolen and hung around the apartment in a philosophical statement; he wasn’t going to ask yet. After that, sunny-side eggs seemed like a good start for an argument over ciphers and how best to use them (Eridan couldn’t wait to decode the new letter when he got home; right, home, where he had work to do).

During their tea-break, Acting-Mortimer explained the last vague bits of the last few months and Eridan supplied as many little details as he could, from when he knew from Kan. All in all, it had been a legendary gossip-date; and they still had two mugs of coffee to go through. Apparently, though, neither of them knew how to bring the topic to each other just yet.

Karkat seemed to out-wit him this time. “I’m mortified to say it, but this is fun...”

And it was such a sincere statement, despite the faked irritation added to it, that Eridan caught himself answering. “Most fun I’ve had in years.”

The other smirked. “Since you shagged your prom date in the back of the limousine?”

“Really funny.” He hadn’t had a prom date. No reason, lost interest before that. “Since I wrestled a guy for the last signed copy of _The Half-Blood Prince_.”

He hadn’t expected it, but that statement sent Karkat in an uncharacteristic fit of giggles that almost had him doubled over. Soon enough, Eridan was smiling at the slight shade of pink he had turned. Well, okay, he had a nice complexion altogether; and decent enough sweaters. At least he knew his clothing inability well enough to keep far from patterns.

Eridan may have passive-aggressively bought a box of condoms the other day.

What was he thinking.

It seemed like the best moment to start talking again. “It stopped rainin’,” he noted, instead and the other nodded in agreement after glancing at the window. The avenue outside looked soggy wet and cars were running down through rainwater, but it seemed like the actual rain had taken a smoking break. “Can you drink that coffee too?” Eridan pointed at the third cup, mirroring his own.

“Probably not,” Karkat admitted with a sigh. They had stronger coffee here than in most of the other shitty places in the city.

“Brilliant. Then let’s go,” he clapped his hands once, not even glancing at his own full cup and counted his money with the unawarely acquired skill of the cashier.

After they both arranged their shares, they were finally free to go outside again. Somewhere along the road Eridan had started twirling his umbrella absent-mindedly. It wasn’t like he could harm anyone at a time like that; the park was still vaguely empty.

“Some insight would be, no doubt contrary to all your thoughts, really welcome,” Karkat gave him a look and he blinked, right before the wind threw his hair in his face and he had to gather it out of his glasses.

“Meaning?” he asked while he battled with a violet strand that had got tangled around the lenses.

“Well, shit if I know. Are you living alone?”

Oh, that kind of insight. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t really given much of that; he might have, if he was asked and he was now. “In theory, yes, but you wouldn’t guess by the noises.” When an eyebrow was raised at him, he explained. “Thin walls. They get on my nerves 25/7. Have you ever had your alarm clock sound like somebody takin’ a wank?”

“A few times,” Acting-Mortimer cringed and Eridan realised that, yeah, after hanging underwear, that was to be expected.

“Then you know the feelin’. Anyway, it’s a small place, but it’s better than slackin’ at home.” Back there, his bathroom was bigger than his current bedroom.

The ginger snorted. “Tell me about it. Before I moved out, I had to share my room with three other siblings; ten years younger at that, too.”

“You have siblings,” Eridan remarked smartly.

“Two sisters and a brother. Don’t you?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Who knows what had happened in the meantime?” Nothing, that’s what he hoped. Nothing. The rain started again and he opened his umbrella when it looked like it was getting too enthusiastic about it. At least Karkat seemed to have no objection to being included under it. “Sometimes I wonder why I haven’t sold my body to move to Hawaii.”

“It’s not too late yet, but I’m broke.” Those ducks on the lake were having too much fun in the downpour.

“Sheesh, my little fish of Riverrun, you’d get it for free. I’m still half a decent man, you know.” Eridan started laughing louder than he had in a long time when the other started smacking at him with exclamations of _I’ll show you fish_ and _Go shove your pop culture references up your arse, you twat._

By the end of the day, both of them carried forming bruises on their arms and ribs and other punch-friendly areas they hadn’t paid much attention to. Yet again, when Eridan locked his apartment door behind himself, he caught a bubbly feeling rushing underneath his skin and realised he was high on excitement. It was such a long-forgotten feeling.

Nep came to give him a share of memory pills and a box of black tea the next day (in thanks for the cat food, which was a _surprise_ ) and, by the look on her face, he was still under the influence, which was _weird_. Still, he hadn’t had enough time to judge himself for that since his ordeal started on Monday.

This was such a bad time to be employed. His night shift was like a black hole in his schedule, but he managed to get through with it; it was only the first day, after all. Better to start accumulating sleep debt early on so he wouldn’t be caught out of his depth later.

By the next Friday, Eridan was still standing under the impression that he was managing everything just fine. His diet consisted more than anything else of tea and crackers, his couch was the favourite bed of his brain and papers were stacked on every bit of furniture, but he was fine; mostly.

Then, on the second black-hole-Monday-shift, during the second and last week of exams, Sol stopped before going to his cash register to look at him. That wasn’t something new; the novel and creepy part was that he hadn’t made a demeaning comment. Next thing Eridan knew, he had to scan four large bars of different kinds of chocolate.

“Second best thing next to sex. You look like a picture book example of a basket case,” Sol waved the chocolate at him and urged him to open one as he got to his register. Well, it was fairly empty today, it was no harm done.

“You hate chocolate,” Eridan remarked as he was munching on his already second line of a bitter one.

Sol snickered. “I get lots of sex.”

As much as he wanted to prove him wrong, the thing did help his nerves; the ones he didn’t know were fuming, too. “You know, I think that’s the only lie I’m not going to believe no matter how often you say it.” Sol getting laid more than him, sure. Well, actually, that wasn’t that hard. Still.

“I don’t need you to believe it. I’m getting laid whether you do or not.” Eridan wished he could fuck that smugness out of him in the unsexiest, bloodiest, deadliest way he knew. “Our dear cat lady at 3 o’clock, me or you?”

“I’d like to say not me, but she likes my face too much,” Eridan kept munching. The cat lady was a loyal client of 84 that had claimed him as her personal cashier since she first laid eyes on him. Their relation mostly consisted of bipolar swings from _such a nice lad_ to _why have you destroyed your hair like that, you poor thing._

“Well, _somebody_ ’s got to show an interest in your sorry ass,” Sol snickered again and started scanning some woman’s bags of rice and corn flour.

Were his mouth not full of richly dark chocolate, Eridan would have gagged for effect. Needless to say, the cat lady came for him and he ended up eating all of three chocolates that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20-8-5 2-18-9-20-9-19-8-14-5-19-19 9-19 9-14-20-5-14-4-5-4, 9-14 3-1-19-5 1-14-25 15-6 25-15-21 23-1-19 23-15-14-4-5-18-9-14-7.  
> ...  
> 19-15 1-18-5 20-8-5 19-8-15-18-20 14-1-13-5-19 6-15-18 5-22-5-18-25-15-14-5 2-21-20 20-8-5 20-23-15 15-6 20-8-5-13.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, it's a theme of mine that Chinese food makes people want to bang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're at the end. This was all.  
> Thank you for reading.  
> Sorry for the quality of the less than mild sexual content.

It wasn’t much and it was mostly stupid, but Eridan had taken his Saturday morning off from work. He was done, he was spent and, currently, he was having a 10.13 AM mug of coffee, because no matter how much stress and sleep deprivation he put in his body, it still kept its stubborn opinion that it belonged to a morning person.

After falling asleep at seven the night before and waking up at a quarter to ten this morning, Eridan had managed to make his living room look acceptable again (mainly by shoving all the papers lying around in bins and the bins in his wardrobe), observe that he had nothing to eat, accept it, make coffee and start drinking it. He was also in the middle of a text-war on his phone. It mainly sounded like this:

• _wwho the fuck puts pudding in pastries?!_  
• _people wwho have no money for cheese thats wwho_  
• _wow, no wonder your parents kicked you out._  
• _at least i wwasnt thrown out by a stoner_

It held to show the state of his derelict nerves that Eridan was actually enjoying this chat. Well, he would have enjoyed it either way, the problem was the amount of enjoyment taking place in his brain. Brain was a sad term. And there were limits even to chocolate’s relaxing powers.

• _have you ever tried eating soup at chinese fast-foods?_  
• _no please dont do that its poison_  
• _well fine i’ll just take these, then._

He was halfway to typing that merely writing the word food to a starving, destitute man was cruel and sadistic when a loud bang above warned him that he ought to put the buckets back in the bathroom as his darling neighbours were going to take a bath. Leaving his phone on the table, he did so.

Without doing anything to alter the state of his nutcase looks, Eridan still somehow ended hanging around the claustrophobic room more than he’d intended. The second shower of the day still did no good to his buzzing stress-leftovers and brushing his teeth implied that he had to look at himself in the mirror for a while; that hadn’t helped either.

He got out of there a shipwreck in an oversized, overused, overwashed Nirvana shirt and equally depressing sweatpants he kept stepping on. As he finished his coffee, taste awful combined with the toothpaste, it was safe to say that he felt like a lunatic housewife. Then, his doorbell rang and Eridan had to stop in his tracks of serene self-contempt. 

“Well, what the fuck,” he declared and downed his mug, put it down and went to unlock the door. Nep had that best friend of hers; she’d surely seen worse. “Hold your tiger lilies,” he frowned as the doorbell chimed again just as he was unlacing the door. At least the size of his visitor was right. He didn’t quite know what to make of Karkat on his doorstep, but he let him in nevertheless.

“I brought food,” his unannounced guest showed him the bag he carried after discarding his two layers of jackets. It had some Chinese fast-food’s imprint on it and the other set it on the only available table in his apartment.

“Wow,” Eridan said absent-mindedly as he took a moment to see himself through Karkat’s eyes. _Well, there goes my last chance of ever getting laid._ He ought to just donate his passive-aggressive condoms already, become a better man and all that. Then his mind caught up with the world around and he goggled at the bag. “You brought _me_ food.”

“Hey, part of it is for me too, before you get any funny ideas,” Acting-Mortimer snapped, but it only made him laugh.

Eventually, Eridan shook his head. “Your tastes in television are atrocious, Kar, but I’d still kiss the living lights out of you right now.” Haha, joke. It was funny because it was true. It was fucking awful. On the bright side, there was food lying on the table. 

“Maybe you should,” Karkat stopped to glare at him and to settle on the arm of his teal couch. There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes when that one sank a little under him too. Still, he went along with it. “And shut up, I know you had a boner for Merlin, you fucking hypocritical nerd,” he bristled, accusing grey eyes shooting daggers directly at Eridan’s skull.

“Only a small one,” Eridan admitted, keeping a smile on his face in an attempt to get over himself. 

Already accommodated to his sitting place, Karkat raised his hands in the air in an attempt to show him the path of God before sighing. “So how was your exam session?”

Eridan let out a demoralizing chuckle. “How do you think?” he spread out his arms for effect and for a better view at his sorry state of being.

As if the gods had decided that his punishment deserved a final touch, the ginger looked him over, head to toe. If anything, he looked mild at the end. “I’ve seen much worse. Tav kept fidgeting weeks after his own in his first year. You’re fine.”

That ought to be the first time somebody used the word _fine_ for him without being prompted; Eridan half-wanted to disagree, just for the fun of it. In reality, he just let his arms fall back at his sides. “Yeah, I guess I am.” Well, mostly, he was. Now he even had food waiting for him. With one last flourish of the morally compromised, Eridan flopped down on his sinking couch. It was eager to welcome him home.

However, the real fun came when Karkat, after watching his action, decided to let his own body slip down beside him. “What the fuck,” he let out a breathy laugh when it half-swallowed him.

“Don’t diss the couch, it’s a family treasure,” Eridan kicked his ankle and waited for him to get used to the dipping feeling.

“Where on the long-sailed Earth have you even found this thing?” the other managed to turn towards him in that mass of teal, holding one leg angled on the couch for stability.

Out of _camaraderie_ , Eridan turned a little towards him too. Out of _smugness_ , he crossed his legs in as much of a lotus position as the couch allowed him. Usually, just letting it suck you in was most comfortable, but who was he to judge. “The last owners left it here for charity. It’s nice once you get used to it,” he lied. “It has a certain personality,” he added with a wink and leant forwards, elbows on his thighs.

His leg slipped under him, but Karkat put it back in place and leant a little too. “I don’t doubt that,” he gave the entire thing a wry smile before catching Eridan’s gaze again and raising an eyebrow.

Well, that could be meaning anything. That was, if they weren’t by now centimetres away from each other. But they were and Eridan was just starting to appreciate the look of lips so near his own again, so he went for it. “I’ve never made out on it, maybe _that_ unlocks its secret ability,” he grinned, though his libido was kind of overly-enthusiastic at the sudden prospect.  
“What, like a transformer?” Karkat laughed, but nevertheless tilted his head and let their lips meet, bringing forth a rush of dense silence.

Eridan lasted all of two seconds under the heat of his mouth before responding and angling his head better and wow, now there was a hand at the back of his neck and he was, for lack of a more accurate term, being thoroughly kissed. Well, it was the most enthusiasm anyone’s displayed while kissing him and he found it quite intoxicating and catching.

It was a relief to know that he hadn’t been the only one eager for this to happen, but he wasn’t thinking about this at the moment. At the moment, he was registering Karkat’s teeth being dragged gently over his lower lip before their mouths met again. He was slowly and deliberately losing coordination in his extremities, but that seemed to do nothing to his decision of running his hands through Karkat’s hair and who had he been kidding, he loved gingers. 

And Karkat’s other hand went to his back just as his tongue pressed lightly at Eridan’s lips, making him wish he’d thought of breathing before opening his mouth eager as a kid waiting for candy. Well...shit. He didn’t remember it feeling that good.

His mind was blurry about how he’d got to be on his back on the couch, afterwards, and there was a breathing pause soon after that, before they got back to it and... _jackpot_. If this went on, Eridan would grow to adore his couch.

Karkat seemed to be more bark than bite even in this situation, coming as pretty abrupt in some of his initiating movements, but actually keeping the kisses slow are careful most of the time. It wasn’t like Eridan acted anything different, either. He had no reason to, it was nice.

Well, look at him. He hadn’t touched a guy since he was 15 and drunk and he hadn’t even kissed someone in something that verged on five years, but here he was, fighting a very powerful urge to grope someone’s ass. He’d never said he was winning.

At one point, he may have wanted to get up and get more control over the situation, but he couldn’t do that unless he used the floor to push himself up; and his hands were a little busy at the moment. Busy wondering why the fuck was there an undershirt beneath this guy’s sweater, it was so infuriating. Eridan claimed his revenge by breaking the kiss in order to trail his lips along Karkat’s jaw and grinned when the other’s hands started to give out under him. 

“This has seemed like a good idea for the first ten minutes,” Karkat eventually muttered after deciding that the pain in his shoulders was a little too much and rising up to sit on his thighs.

Eridan took this opportunity to get up too, which proved to be a little more difficult, with his jelly arms, than he’d imagined, but at least he had help. He could see his hair in front of his eyes and feel it stick out in a thousand different directions, but at least he could say the same thing about his guest.

Well.

His lips were numb.

His mind did a _what the hell_ flip. “I vote bedroom,” he pointed at the dark indigo door beside the fridge. Hopefully, the neighbours’ bath hadn’t inundated that room yet.

Karkat followed his gaze. “Bedroom’s good,” he agreed and stepped off Eridan’s thighs before helping him up again.

“What a gentleman,” he sighed in turn and kept holding his hand until they reached his bed. This, this was why mothers kept nagging their children about making their beds every day; so they could start doing it out of habit so they wouldn’t have to embarrass themselves in front of their possibly-shagging partners. “Just push the papers away,” Eridan waved. “What could you have expected,” he started mumbling before catching himself, but he was already growing self-conscious.

As if to show off his Don’t-Give-A-Fuck PhD diploma, Karkat simply shrugged, grabbed the papers Eridan hadn’t and placed them on his nightstand before sitting down on his bed. First person to sit on his bed too. Lucky.

“Right...” Eridan said warily and sat down too, crossing his legs before he had the chance to think better of it. He had absolutely no idea where those blasted condoms were or whether he was going to need them at all. Karkat was giving him an amused look. “ _What?_ ”

“Nothing. I feared that you’d be more provoking. I don’t know why. You make wizard references,” he shook his head, a smile still on his lips, but Eridan was swift to grab his shoulders and push him down, having him rest his head in his weird array of pillows. Despite the fake-anger they both may have planned to display, they were grinning at each other now.

And the bed wasn’t sinking and there was a lot more space for different activities and movements to ensue and, soon enough, Eridan felt his T-shirt being dragged over his head and away. He was quick to copy the movement, letting Karkat raise a little from the bedding in order to take off both his sweater (which proved to be even larger than he’s expected) and his undershirt. And, wow, well, Eridan may have just come to terms with the fact that he was aroused. Really aroused. He had half his adolescence and three of his college years’ worth of hormones and stress to use in that respect.

As he kept leaving open-mouthed kisses on Karkat’s neck and fingertips pressed into his shoulder-blades, he realised that chocolate was nothing compared to this, although it had kept him alive well enough. Then it became harder to think as he concentrated on Karkat’s sounds and on the ongoing grinding that took place southwards.

Getting rid of the rest of their clothes proved to be more laborious in the dimness of the bedroom, but they managed to do that too, like the almost grown-ups they were. “Your ceiling’s leaking,” Karkat noted, a hint of breathlessness in his voice.

“Broken pipe upstairs,” Eridan explained while kissing his jaw. “Or people who’ve just received a shipment of penguins,” he muttered against the heated skin and felt Karkat giggle against his chest.

“Naturally,” the other trailed his hands over his abdomen and then looked around the room again. “Gotta fish my jeans.”

“Why?” He had two more whines for the day now.

“Fish and chips, what do you think?” Karkat disentangled his limbs to pull his jeans closer and dug in their pockets. “Here,” he threw a condom at Eridan.

“Had some too,” he muttered and opened it.

“Fish and chips?” Karkat grinned at him and it earned him a half-hearted shove that had the effect of letting him fall back on the bed. His ginger hair was a mess and his face was flushed and excited and his eyes were dark and Eridan thought that he’d hit a jackpot of his own this time. A kick on his side reminded him to get on with it.

He did.

It was probably the most amazing thing he’d experienced since he’d kissed a dolphin on his 10th birthday. It lasted a bit, too; Eridan was particularly proud of that. Quite a large number of his muscles were burning afterwards, but he felt better than he did in years. His bathroom’s ceiling was still leaking. Its dripping in the buckets on the floor could be heard over their ragged breaths.

“Didn’t you say the walls are thin?” Karkat eventually talked, although he had to stop himself and swallow before he could make intelligible sounds.

“Mmh, they are,” Eridan smiled to himself and then gave him a funny look.

The other kept his gaze for a few moments before laughing and running a hand through his disarrayed hair. “You little shit.”

“A man can handle only so much before he has to take his revenge,” Eridan intoned and as a reward got a dark grey sweater thrown over his face. He spluttered, like the social norms required, but it was kind of soft and smelled familiar by now, so he didn’t throw it back after he got it off him.

It took him a few more minutes of quiet breathing and subtle handholding before he finally got up from the bed and sought his discarded clothes around the room, since nobody cared about them anyway. He looked back at Karkat when he was putting his T-shirt back on and saw him watching, propped up on his elbows and with the covers halfway over his chest.

“Food,” Eridan explained and a look of recognition appeared on the other’s face. “Be careful not to slip when you get in the bathroom.”

It was kind of weird to see the living room looking just as he had left it, but Eridan soon found out that the craving for food was more powerful than any philosophical urges, so he went to see to that. Thankfully, he found his glasses too, so he was starting to feel more like himself. Karkat had brought quite a large array of foodstuff, he remarked with gratitude and peeked at the noodles after using the kitchen sink to wash his hands.

“Are you allergic to something or it’s all good?” Always-Forever-Acting-Mortimer asked when he got to his side and Eridan had the strangest, giddiest feeling that he’d wanted to put his cheek on his shoulder before standing one step away.

“I’m allergic to not eating, I think,” he picked up a box of noodles and a share of chopstick from the bag and retreated to the magic couch. The two open windows (as always) sent cold wind inside the room without any rain. This was a good thing.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Karkat snatched a box for himself and took a seat beside him. Then he stopped; then he shivered. He stared at Eridan’s ancient T-shirt. “How the fuck aren’t you freezing?” asked the sweater-wearer. 

Swirling his noodles around with the chopsticks, Eridan winked. “Tenant’s secret.”

Listening to Karkat rant and grumble was a hundred times better now that he knew exactly how to make him shut up, but, still, Eridan let him go on about the shitty weather and the shitty pipes and the way he’d got lost on the way to his apartment and the fact that the lift was broken. The food was amazing at this time of the day.

“What did I miss, anyway?” Eridan asked when they were going through the spring rolls and had finished the debate whether soy or chilli sauce went better with them.

“Miss what?” Karkat frowned while munching on his last bite, then nodded. “Not much, actually. Tav said they decided not to try getting together again, but that they should definitely keep talking, as they are both so avid after each other’s stupid ramblings. I just hope it’ll last; I finally got back to my sleeping schedule this week.”

“That makes one of us,” Eridan waved a roll in the air before dipping it in the chilli sauce. He had to phone Kan later that day and find out how things were working out of her, now that one thing was out of the way. Well, he had to call her for multiple reasons.

“You’ll get by,” Karkat waved him off and stole the second half of the roll from his hand. “I brought you something,” he said while Eridan was still mid-scoff and got up to get his backpack. Eridan wondered what he was carrying in it all the time. Well, he guessed he would find out one of these days. That particular thought made him happy.

Karkat threw a familiar-looking sheet of paper at him. Eridan had a drawer full of those. “Laugh and I’ll have your cock shipped back to your native lands,” was the mandatory threat and Eridan laughed. “What the fuck did I just say,” the other attempted to snap, but it was a hard thing to do while smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wkdqnvlhv ~


End file.
